


No Peeking

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Magical Tattoos, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 04:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20687297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: Charlie was just innocently walking up the stairs at his parents' house. It's not like he meant to peek. Now he can't get it out of his mind.





	No Peeking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GaeilgeRua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaeilgeRua/gifts).

> Written for the Rare Pair Shorts 2019 Summer Wishlist event on LiveJournal.

In a single instant a two inch crack in his baby sister’s bedroom door became the bane of Charlie Weasley’s existence. It was not, of course, a literal crack. The door just happened to be ajar by about two inches when he was passing by on his way up the stairs. Two inches was precisely enough space to catch the tiniest glimpse of bare skin on the small of Hermione Granger’s back.

Well, skin uncovered by clothing, at least. It was not exactly bare.

It was just a glimpse. A flash of bold line and color against pale skin before she tugged her shirt into place and it was gone. He didn’t even get an idea of what he was seeing until it was already covered, but it floored him all the same. Good girl Hermione Granger had a tattoo—and not a small one judging by how the design seemed to spread out under fabric in both directions before it was covered.

Charlie tried to put it out of his mind. He really did. It was an accidental glimpse of his little brother’s best friend. The last thing he should be thinking about. Yet, he just couldn’t manage it. Never mind that he’d already been having trouble keeping her out of his thoughts. She’d certainly grown into a striking young woman, and it seemed like she’d grown lovelier each day since the war’s end. Something new and interesting about her was not helping matters.

Every time he passed her on the stairs, sat at the same table for meals, and saw her all over the Burrow he thought of that flash of color and his brain would turn over possibilities. Just how big was the tattoo? For that matter, what was it? He hadn’t seen enough to know for sure, couldn’t be certain if he’d seen scales or coins or something else entirely. What had possessed her to get it? To hear Ron talk it was like pulling teeth to get Hermione out of the library, much less to spend hours under the needle. Was it muggle or magical? Did she have others? Did she want more?

The questions kept piling up. Unfortunately, Charlie’s good manners telling him it wasn’t polite to ask about the ink couldn’t hold out against his curiosity forever. That curiosity had him following Hermione out into the cornfield one afternoon. She was headed for one of the small ponds, and the towel thrown over her arm probably meant she planned on a bit of a swim. The summer was, after all, dreadfully hot. He slipped away from the house when his brother’s weren’t looking, delighted at the chance to talk to the young woman alone.

It was much easier to sneak through a corn field than some of the places where he’d crept about with dragons. Ahead of him, Hermione seemed lost in her own little world, humming faintly to herself. He followed just close enough to keep her in sight through the stalks waving in the wind, minding where he stepped to make as little noise as possible. He was quite proficient with wordless silencing charms for stealth, but he was fairly sure he didn’t need them. The breeze ruffling the plants should make enough sound to muffle any he didn’t manage to avoid.

That, of course, was exactly what he’d been thinking in the instant before Hermione called to him over her shoulder.

“Are you finally going to muster up some Gryffindor bravery, then?” she asked tartly, never slowing her pace.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” he snarked back. At the very least, Charlie wasn’t about to back down from a challenge. Hermione snorted the tiniest huff of a laugh, glancing back at him just long enough for him to see the amused smirk on her face. Was it his imagination or was the sway of her hips just a bit more pronounced.

“Ginny will be disappointed. She thought you’d hold out another week at least.”

He frowned at that, uncertain what his sister had to do with anything, but they reached the shore of a pond before he could question it. From the looks of things, she’d led him all the way to one of the corners of the field farthest from The Burrow. She turned to face him, one eyebrow raised, and he realized that he’d been silent for too long. “Might be that I was just making sure you’re looked after. We did just fight a nasty war and all.”

“You know as well as anyone that I’m more than capable of looking after myself.” Hermione rolled her eyes. When her gaze met his, they were filled with mirth. “Weasley men have all the subtlety of a brick to the head, and yet they still can’t recognize reciprocated interest when it’s right in front of their faces.” She favored him with an appraising glance, her eyes trailing leisurely from his head all the way down to his feet and back up again. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” She turned her back on him once more and dropped the shirt dress she was wearing from her shoulders.

It was a dragon—a wyrm, really—the massive creature coiling from the base of her spine up to the middle of her shoulders. Clearly magical, the creature’s long neck waved hypnotically from one shoulder blade to the other. It’s scales were a burnished copper that glinted in the sun, and the great winding lengths of its serpentine body were wrapped around a hoard of books. An open book was clutched in the creatures clawed forearms. There were tiny glasses perched in front of its eyes.

Charlie laughed. “It’s a bookwyrm!”

“Right in one.” Hermione turned to face him again and his mouth went dry. In his excitement to see her tattoo he’d somehow managed not to notice that she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing once that dress came off. “You don’t really think someone who’s as much of a perfectionist as I am wouldn’t notice they’d left the door open, do you?”


End file.
